


in the darkness

by kcsantos



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, and the fact that Gwyn is amazing?, basically me dealing with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcsantos/pseuds/kcsantos
Summary: His shadows circle his arm up to the tip of his fingers, as if the shadows were also reaching for her hand.
Relationships: Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	in the darkness

The shades of blue blend together and she traces it with the tips of her fingers, the soft blue of the sky and the darker blue of the sea. Smudges of white dust the top of the canvas and as she traces those clouds with her hands, she imagines what it would feel like. The freedom of the sky. It is beautiful, so beautiful it hurts. Thinking about it brings tears to her eyes that she blinks away forcefully.

“Gwyneth?!” comes a stern voice from behind the shelf to her left.

Gwyn closes the book hastily and puts it back on the cart, turning around just in time to see Merrill, disapproving eyes and white hair a stark contrast against the dim light of the library. The priestess does not look happy, but that is not unusual.

“Where are the books I’ve asked you to collect and bring it to me? How long time do you need to accomplish such simple task? You’ve been working for a full week now; these kinds of mistakes are unacceptable.”

Merrill seems to reconsider what she was going to say next once she takes a closer look at Gwyn, who is now trying to avoid eye contact as if her life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, I’ll bring it to you right away,” Gwyn says and turns to the cart, intent on walking away.

“Have you been crying? Do compose yourself.” Merrill says, and Gwyn considers how rude would it be for her to just walk away without answering. “Gwyn?!”

She turns and meets the priestess’ eyes. “Maybe a bit?... It’s okay though, I am okay. I’ll get back to work right away and get those books. I’m sorry.”

The priestess doesn’t say anything else as Gwyn takes her leave, pushing the cart in the opposite direction on hurried steps. She can feel eyes on her back as she walks away and vouches to be more careful from then on. If she is working that is all she would focus on. That is what she tells herself as the hours stretch long, the clocks turning slowly, the dim light between the shelves giving nothing away. And when work is finally done and is time to go back to her room, Gwyn is not sure she feels relief or pure, unrelentless sadness.

When she closes the door on her back and faces the solitary room, the sadness on her chest echoes around. There is nothing but silence to keep her company and that is how it has been for the past six months.

On the following night, she finds a book on the top of the cover on her bed. It’s the paintings collection she had looked at before, the one with the painting of the sea. There is no note, nothing that indicates who had brought it to her. Overcome with the silent caring gesture, she holds the book to her chest and cries until all the tears dry, until her body stops shaking, until numbness sets once again.

And so, it goes on…

The days blending into nights blending into days blending into nothing at all…

“In my dreams I kill him every night, but I can never save her,” she confesses one day in one of her many counselling sessions, the words a whisper. In the silence of the library, the words are loud in her ears. It should not be this hard to admit, but it is, and she feels a weight in her chest. A pressure that makes it difficult to breathe.

Clotho, sitting in front of her, takes some time to write something and send the paper sliding on the table’s surface, towards Gwyn.

_What will you do when the dream changes? Will you forgive yourself then?_

Gwyn looks at the writing on the paper and has no answer.

* * *

Catrin’s laughter fills the space around, and Gwyn cannot help but smile at her sister’s mirth. The two of them were sitting outside by the fire, the fresh summer breeze making the night particularly enjoyable. Stargazing have been the excuse used, but Catrin only wanted privacy to share with Gwyn all about what had happened the night before.

“I’ve never thought it could be like that,” Catrin says looking up at the sky as if the memory was painted in the stars. “That it could _feel_ like that, you know?”

Gwyn didn’t. All the kisses she had in her life had been brief and sweet, nothing of the fire her sister claimed it could be.

“And I know it’s silly, but I think I want to spend the rest of my life with him,” Catrin looks at Gwyn then, hoping for her sister to understand and agree with her.

Catrin, who was the strongest and smartest one.

“It’s not silly, not at all, but…”

“No! Do not ‘but’ me! You know how I feel Gwynie, they can’t take this from me.” And the determination shining on her eyes were proof enough. “You have to help me.”

Gwyn sighs and sits up, not wanting to see the disappointment in her sister’s eyes.

“You know this could end badly. And I don’t mean broken hearts bad, I mean death. People could die, he could die! Don’t you care about him enough to keep him safe?” And there it was. Gwyn was saying all the things she thought of before, and of course Catrin did not agree with her. It was the reason why Gwyn had kept quiet in the first place.

Catrin gets up in a rush of fury and disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re not on my side! But then again, why am I surprised?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gwyn gets up as well, staring her twin sister with an indignation of her own. Hurt clouding her senses.

Catrin laughs again, but the sound lacks the mirth and joy of moments before. Tears are shinning on her eyes and the sight breaks something inside of Gwyn. She steps forward, determined to make things right.

“Please forgive me, I—”

Catrin takes a step back, she meets Gwyn’s eyes and without another word she walks away. Gwyn is left alone in the clearing, the fire still cracking, the stars the only witnesses to her shame and regret. She tries not to cry, pushes all thoughts of going after her sister aside because she knows Catrin needs time.

But there would be no more time…

On the next day, Gwyn would have her sister’s blood splattered across her dress and everything from then on would be darkness.

* * *

A voice comes from the shadows in the right corner of the ring.

“Put your feet further apart, it will give you better balance,” Azriel instructs and waits for her. “Yes, that’s better. Now show me your hold on the blade.”

Gwyn holds the blade and hears his low chuckle. She sighs in frustration and turns to look at him. “What? Am I holding it wrong?”

“Not at all,” he holds both his hands up in a ‘calm down’ gesture, as if anticipating her fight. “You got it exactly right in your very first try. It’s remarkable, is all. How you learn so fast.”

“Not everything, most things take a lot of time actually,” Gwyn replies trying to brush off the compliment and the infuriating blush threatening to rise on her cheeks. “Were you a fast learner?” And this, too, is a way of brushing the attention aside, placing it on him instead of her.

Azriel’s lips twitches, supressing the rise of a knowing smile.

“I learned fast enough,” he answers, and again, with another answer of a spy. “And it takes some people years to learn what you have in only a couple of weeks. You, Nesta and Emerie are doing well.”

Without knowing what to reply, Gwyn simply nods and resumes her stance. She does not hear his light steps and only notices his approach when she can feel his presence getting closer to her. Azriel stops at a respectful distance from her.

“Can I?” Azriel asks and holds up his right hand towards her own, the one holding the blade.

He's wearing a fingerless glove and while she cannot see the extent of his scars, she can see some of it. But that never mattered to her. What speaks to her is the low timbre of his voice, the gentleness of the request. His shadows circle his arm up to the tip of his fingers as if the shadows were also reaching for her hand, daring a dance across her skin.

“Yes,” Gwyn answers, the word spoken so softly that for a second she thinks he might have missed it. But Azriel gently places his hand over hers, adjusting her grip on the hilt of the blade.

He slowly steps around to stand behind her. His shadows following him and enclosing them in a circle. Gwyn wonders if she should be afraid, but the shadows only whisper against her skin.

“Slice it sideways or stab directly with force, quick and certain.” Gwyn doesn’t reply to his instruction, suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that she enjoys his proximity much more than she probably should, and he mistakes her silence. “Trust me, I know a thing or two about daggers,” he goes on. “Great for close combat and self-defence. Quite effective if you know how to use it. As I said, quick and certain.”

She snaps out of it and does as he says. His arm following her movement.

“There you go,” Azriel says with amusement, carefully stepping away.

Gwyn looks back at him, now standing a few steps away from her, and realizes that the shadows seem reluctant to leave her side. Azriel gives her a small, reassuring smile and it hits her harder than any punch she had received on that very ring.

 _Quick and certain_.

* * *

She had promised herself that she would not cry this time, and yet… Gwyn presses her body against the wooden door, fighting the tremors overtaking her.

It had seemed so simple, such an easy thing to do: get out of the room, out of the dormitories and go outside. But she couldn’t go any further than the big library door that opened to the steps leading to the House of Wind before she couldn’t breathe, panic settling on her, the need to run taking over. And then she did run, run back to the safety of her room. But the solitude that welcomed her did nothing to stop the sobs bursting out of her chest.

She cries for the failed attempts, the nights with no sleep, the bone deep exhaustion that she feels. She cries for her sister and the forgiveness that would never come. She cries for her fears, her anger, the never-ending depth of despair that hangs around her like a cloak. There’s no light, no opening her eyes and realizing that it was nothing but a nightmare. Reality is the nightmare, and the relief of waking up never reaches her, night after night…

There’s a knock on the door that she really does not want to answer.

“Gwyneth?” comes a soft voice that Gwyn recognizes as belonging to Roslin.

Gwyn really does not want to see anyone but feels that she should repay the kindness and care of the priestess, and so she gets up on unsteady feet and opens the door. Roslin’s eyes are filled with an understanding that breaks something inside of Gwyn. Roslin holds her arms in a silent request for permission and Gwyn nods quickly, desperately, and stumbles back with the force of the hug the priestess gives her.

“You are so brave,” Roslin whispers to Gwyn, holding her tight. “Yesterday, you started talking again, today you got out of your room, tomorrow you will take a walk in the library… And every day it will get a little easier. Every day a bit more, until you feel you’re ready to come work with us and to attend the services, and to speak with the other priestesses, and to see the light of the days outside. Every day a new step a little farther than before…”

“Haven’t you been inside this place for some 60 years?” Gwyn asks half petulant, half joking.

Roslin chuckles and holds Gwyn’s hands between her own. “Maybe I’m not as brave as you.”

“Yes, you are,” Gwyn replies immediately.

“So then, my steps must be different than yours. But I’m a little farther than before, too,” Roslin gives her a sad smile.

 _Every day a new step a little farther than before_.

It is with that thought on her mind that, one year and a half later, Gwyn faces that blank piece of paper and decides to sign her name.

 _A little farther than before_ …

Azriel winnowed with Nesta and Cassian not even a minute before and Gwyn is already freaking out and having second thoughts. She tries to sit down but can’t, then starts to pace around the ring. When she begins her second turn, Azriel winnows back in the middle of the ring and stops her in her track.

Gwyn looks up startled at him and the Shadowsinger meets her stare, reading on her expression just how nervous she is.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I _am_ sure,” she replies quickly to reassure him and herself that it was her decision. “Is just—” Gwyn falters, unsure of how to voice her fears without making it sound like being there with him was a mistake. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone with a male.”

If Azriel feels pity or something else towards her, he doesn’t show. His face remains an impassive mask and Gwyn is grateful for that. She will not accept his pity or anyone else’s.

“I’ve been thinking about it and I’m sure of this. It is just more training, that’s all. You’ve been with us for a while and have been quite helpful. More so than Cassian if I’m being honest, with how much he loses his focus because of Nesta—“

At that, Azriel lips twitch.

“And I feel comfortable around you both. Cassian and you. And… You… I—“ Gwyn is rambling, and she wants to laugh at herself for it. Azriel simply watches her, his eyes kind and searching. “I trust you. I trust both of you, that is.”

He does smile then and the sight somehow puts Gwyn more at ease and she finds herself smiling back. His shadows dance around his shoulders and wings.

“You trust me?” Azriel asks and there is a vulnerability and openness in his voice that she has never heard before.

“I do.” Gwyn answers and hopes that he can see in her eyes the truth of it.

He does.

Azriel nods, hides his small smile and says, “let’s begin then.”

* * *

_The lovely blue of her dress is stained red with blood. There is blood on her hands and splattered on her face and the floor looks slippery with a pool of it. So much blood, everywhere. Her scream is stuck on her throat. Three heads roll in the ground and when she gets pushed and slapped, that is when the scream rips itself out. They try to hold her body against the table, but she thrashes against their hold and falls in the ground. Her face lands over a corpse and she screams. Someone grabs her foot and drags her through the blood on the floor. She turns and kicks as strongly as she can, and the hand finally let go of their hold on her. She gets up and braces herself to face the Hybern General, but his body is already on the floor. As are the others._

_Gwyn looks around and finds herself facing a mirror._

_Her reflection stares at her, wearing fighting leathers and holding a dagger in one hand. Her invoking stone shinning in the middle of her chest. She blinks slowly and the reflection disappears. Gwyn is left once again standing in the room, bloodied and surrounded by shadows._

_“Gwynie?”_

_She turns around and finds Catrin standing there, alive and well._

_“Catrin? Are you really here?” Gwyn asks, her voice breaking, and her twin sister laughs, a short and lovely, sad sound. “Did I save you?”_

_“You are always trying to save me,” Catrin’s voice seems distant, more than it ever was and that is more scary to Gwyn than the blood and shadows around. “You have to let me go.”_

_“No.”_

_“Let me go.”_

_“No!” Gwyn tries to reach for Catrin but when she touches one of her sister’s hand, she vanishes. “Please, don’t leave me alone,” she cries to the empty room._

_The shadows embrace her and whisper against her ear, singing softly…_

She opens her eyes and finds herself alone in her bed. Heart racing and sweat coating her skin. A thousand thoughts crossing her mind. It had been another nightmare then, but it was different than her usual ones.

There’s a knock on her door then, and Gwyn stumbles out of the bed to answer and find Roslin standing there, a small packaging in her hands.

“I’m sorry, were you still asleep?” Roslin looks surprised.

Gwyn was usually an early riser, mostly because she rarely could get a good night of sleep, and because of that she didn’t fault the priestess’ confusion.

“I had a weird dream, Roslin… How can I help you?” Gwyn asks.

Roslin smiles. “Clotho sent me to give this to you,” she hands Gwyn the small box. “I suppose it’s a belated Solstice gift. Clotho didn’t tell me who it was from, though.”

“Thank you, Roslin,” Gwyn accepts the gift and smiles back at Roslin. The priestess bids her a good-day and walks away.

Gwyn closes the door in a hurry and opens the small box to find a delicate golden necklace inside. It takes her breath away. The unremarkable chain holds a tiny amulet, a small flat rose fashioned of stained glass. The kind that when held to the light it revealed the depth of its true colors. She takes it out of the box and holds it on the palm of her right hand, watching the light play against it. It smells faintly of spring flowers. It is lovely, so lovely that Gwyn wonders if she deserves such a gift. Walking a few steps, she stands in front of the mirror in the corner of the room and holds the necklace against her neck to admire its beauty.

Gwyn looks at her reflection and flashes of the nightmare comes back.

_Did I save you?_

She blinks twice and while the reflection disappears, the thoughts remain.

_What will you do when the dream changes?_

Crossing the room, she kneels by her bed and pulls a wooden trunk from under it. She opens it and faces her most precious possessions. Her sister’s invoking stone, now cold and colorless. The book of landscape paintings, the one she found out it had been a gift from Clotho. And folded carefully, a long, black cloak. She touches the cloth and feels its soft texture.

The nightmare is gone but the shadows remain in her thoughts, singing softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is this? we just don't know but let's roll with it lol hope you enjoy! and sorry for mistakes :)


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